


Memory of the Heart

by Tabithian



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Nightwing (Comic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 09:51:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim has to claw his way through to the surface, and dimly, part of him wonders if this was what Jason had experienced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memory of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Kaciart's [wonderful art](http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/14855211167) and [this post](http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/14855775603).

Tim has to claw his way through to the surface, and dimly, part of him wonders if this was what Jason had experienced. This bone-deep terror of being buried alive, buried under dirt and rock, and then he breaks through to the surface, night air cold as it hits, but so, so welcome. Tim redoubles his efforts, pulls himself up until his upper boys is free, and sags for a moment, breathing in deep. He's covered in mud and God alone knows what, soaked through and aching, but alive. 

He drags himself clear and rolls onto his back, sees the night sky lit up from the fires and searchlights. A quick glance tells him he's no more than a few streets down from them, the sirens and shouts distant. Closes his eyes and takes a moment to breathe, in, out, in out, before climbing painfully to his feet and making his way to the still-burning building. 

His belt's gone, lost when he'd fallen. Tim vaguely remembers sharp pain and fierce tug before he'd landed. The comm-link's trashed, no way to let anyone know he's okay, he made it out. His breathing stutters for a moment at the memory of burning heat from the explosion, rotting floorboards and weakened foundations giving way beneath his weight, breaking through into the sewer system. 

_Breathe_. 

Tim limps towards the burning building and stops when he comes to a patch of shadows that aren't, Bruce in the suit, covered in soot and ash and mud. Shoulders slumped, _defeated_. His gaze locked on the building Tim had been in, the one that had gone up faster than anyone could have expected. 

Tim looks at the burning wreckage, guilt heavy like lead in his belly because no one could have - should have - survived that. It's obvious that's exactly what Bruce thinks - another Robin lost, another failure. Tim had seen Dick get someone out moments before the whole thing had gone up, and - 

God, _Dick_. 

"Batman?" His voice is as much of a wreck as the rest of him, hoarse, thin. 

He watches Bruce turn to look at him, expression going dark and shuttered as he comes towards Tim. Bruce stops inches from him, _looming_. Tim opens his mouth to say something, but Bruce grabs him, pulls him into a _hug_. 

Tim freezes, eyes widening behind his mask, "...Batman?"

Bruce breathes deep, lets Tim go and steps back, looking at Tim intently, assessing his condition, reassuring himself that Tim's still there, not lost.

Tim shakes his head. "I'm just a little banged up," he says, trying for a smile. 

Bruce's eyes narrow slightly because Tim's one of _his_ , and this is one of the lies they tell each other. 

"Lost my comm-link when the building went up," Tim says. "I fell through to the sewer system, had to find my way out."

Bruce nods. "Go to Dick," he says, the tone of his voice sparking dread in Tim. "Now, Tim," he says, softer. 

Tim stares at him"Okay."

Bruce almost, almost smiles. Squeezes Tim's shoulders. "I'll meet you back at the cave." 

********

Alfred's waiting for him in the cave. Tim wonders, not for the first time, why Alfred does what he does, even though Tim knows. "Hey, Alfred," he says, rueful smile on his face.

Alfred looks him over, and raises an eyebrow. "It's good to see you, Master Timothy," he says, handing Tim a towel. "I believe Master Richard would like to see you. I'll have some clothes waiting for you once you've been up to see him.”

Tim's smile widens, turns true. He's a _mess_. Most of the mud and muck dried and caked off on the ride back, but he's still filthy. He's pretty sure his suit's a lost cause, and all the minor aches and pains are making themselves known, but some things are more important. "Thanks, Alfred," he says, heartfelt.

A moment, and then he's moving. Up the stairs, through the passageway into the manor proper and makes his way up the stairs towards Dick's room. 

A slight pause before he opens the door and crosses the threshold, carpeting thick and lush under his feet as he crosses the room to Dick's side. Dick's exhausted, face bearing the proof in the stark lines and shadows under his eyes, the frown on his face even in sleep.

His hands are bandaged, and Tim realizes knows, Dick must have torn them up looking for him, digging through the rubble and debris to get to Tim, desperate. (It's no less than he would have done, for Dick.)

Tim sighs, reaching out to smooth the line between Dick's eyes with his thumb. Light, gentle. It's a sign of how badly Dick needed rest, sleep, because he doesn't stir at the touch. "Oh, Dick," he says, softly, barely more than a breath of air.

Tim settles himself into the chair pulled up next to Dick's bed, gently taking one of his hands in his and waits, keeping watch.

********

Tim's starting to doze off when something - movement, change in Dick's breathing, _something_ \- pulls him back to wakefulness. Looks over to see Dick staring at him.

"Dick?" 

Dick stares at him. "...Tim?" There's something small and vulnerable in the way he says Tim's name, like. 

"Hey, Dick," he says, and stands, moving closer. 

Dick stares at him, and Tim can see the sedative's still affecting him, eyes hazy, slightly unfocused. "Tim? I." Stops. Swallows, sheets gripped in his hands, knuckles white. "I." Frowns, confused. "The fire?"

Tim reaches out, slowly, carefully, takes Dick's hands in his. "The floor fell out from under me," he says, squeezing Dick's hands. I ended up in the sewers." Sees the way Dick's eyes narrow, struggling for clarity. "Lost my comm-link, the sensors in my suit must have been knocked out." Thinks about the gashes and rents in the suit he hadn't even noticed until after, thinks maybe - definitely - that was why.

"You're okay?" Dick asks, sitting upright, eyes searching Tim's face.

Tim smiles, nods. "Just a little banged up, but yeah, I'm good."

Dick stares at him, and then yanks Tim closer, folds him into a crushing hug, voice soft and fervent in his ear. "Jesus, Tim, I thought you were _dead_ ," he says, something like grief in his voice, low and pained, and there's a hand wrapped tight around Tim's heart, squeezing tight, ruthless. "I thought you were _gone_.”

Tim holds on, whispers reassurances and rubs Dick's back in soothing circles until Dick gives in to the last of the sedative running through his system. He looks up when Bruce turns to leave. He doesn't know when he got there, just that he was watching, worried. 

“Bruce - “

Bruce shakes his head, looks at Dick. Pale, worn out, wrapped around Tim like he never wants to let go. “I'm glad you're okay, Tim,” he says, corner of his mouth quirked like he knows how inadequate that is, but. He's _Bruce_.

Tim smiles. “We're okay, Bruce,” he says. “We're okay.”

They are. One more night down, and however many more to go, but for now they're okay, all of them made it home, and that's everything.


End file.
